


suspension

by pistolgrip



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: Six tries to turn himself in without the Eternals noticing, but Siete finds him escaping in the dead of night.[shouldn't contain spoilers for seeds of redemption, but i wrote it with the premise in mind. at your discretion!]
Relationships: Siete | Seofon/Six | Seox (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	suspension

Six only packs enough belongings to survive the travel; he won't need anything more when he turns himself in, and as he's about to hop over the side of the Eternals' smallest ship, he hears a rustle behind him. Despite knowing that seeking closure with the disturbance would only cause more problems for him, he turns his ears toward the noise. The correct course of action would be to hurry and take off into the night without confirming the source of the noise, but curiosity overwhelms his common sense.

He turns to see Siete illuminated by the moonlight, breath rising like mist into the late winter air. He must have ran here from the base—he makes a show of panting, bending over, leaning his hands on his knees and laughing, but that laugh sounds strained. "Six!" Siete's exclamation sounds more like heavy breathing. "You come here often?"

He doesn't want to humour the facetious comment. He has no time for this. "You cannot convince me to stay." Six looks down at him.

He doesn't feel any resignation toward his fate, but the still acceptance he once felt now stirs with discontent from the second Siete tilts his head back up and shoots him a shaky grin. "No, I know _that._ You're stubborn as a mule." He stands up, and the smile that he tries to put on his lips looks lopsided, ugly, and not at all right. He's not dressed for the weather at all, but there's a light jacket under his arm that he's refrained from wearing. "But at least let us send you off!"

"This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. There is no use for you and the others to feel anything but pain from my departure in order to facilitate my removal from the Eternals." That discontent that replaced his stagnant acceptance howls in his chest with each word. The smile on Siete's face isn't right. It hasn't been right, ever since Six's past started creeping up on him. "A proper goodbye would only further complicate the situation."

"Then let just _me_ send you off," Siete blurts out, and Six is taken aback. It's a frivolous request for a frivolous man, but there's a sharp edge to the request that Siete's ensuing laugh can't soften. Siete holds out the jacket, and Six stares. He won't need one where he's going. "You're about to go off on an adventure without even making sure you're warm?"

"This is no _adventure._ "

Siete's chattering teeth is an ornamentation to his explosive laugh. "Well, whatever it is, you need to stay warm. Right? It's cold," he rambles on. "It can get cold out there. And you've always been—"

Six watches Siete's expression freeze—not from the cold. Uncertainty flickers across Siete's face. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Siete starts talking again.

"You've always been sensitive to the cold."

Six swallows. His hands move on autopilot to take the jacket that Siete holds out to him to combat the chill that racks him. This chill isn't related to the weather, dancing up his spine and settling against his bones. He shrugs the jacket around his shoulders, averting Siete's gaze even though his mask is still on, and it does nothing to stave away the cold. "I don't need this," he mutters. He knows what a lie sounds like out of his mouth. He isn't used to lying.

"But you took it anyway."

"If only because you would protest more if I didn't." Their inane back-and-forth is the only normal thing in this situation, both of them ignoring the situation.

"Well, maybe. I'm not going to stop talking, no." Siete laughs again, and it sounds more and more desperate to Six's ears with each time he lets it happen. "I know I can't stop you, but I can still tell you to take care, right? That's not a crime."

"You're not stopping me?"

He doesn't know why he asks. He has no expectations for Siete's responses, but what he gets is beyond any he could have imagined: Siete's smile finally falling under the strain, the panic in his eyes. "No, you're right," Siete says. His voice is broken into pieces, but he aims each sharp point back at Six in retaliation. "You're right. Stay, Six."

Each syllable cuts through Six's skin and leaves his heart to bleed dry in a way the cold could not. "Why now?" His voice is a croak. Siete and the dissonance he brought upended the peace he'd found with his fate—but if it was this easily shaken, Six thinks he had more doubts than he wanted to admit.

"I realized just now, you know? I didn't try hard enough," Siete rambles. "I mean, letting you resign? What kind of idiot plot was that? I can't make you stay, but I should've tried harder!"

A hysterical laugh follows. Six feels a chill again that isn't from the weather, and he's helpless to witness Siete's flickering emotions.

"So here I am, finally deciding I'd convince you to stay. And it's working! You must be annoyed enough by me to keep standing there. After all, that ship's right behind you!"

"As if I could leave," Six says in reaction—but nothing's stopping him. Siete isn't restraining him. Siete isn't doing anything more than offering conversation, but still, Six can't _move._ He's frozen here in the present, watching Siete and waiting.

He _could_ leave, but he _can't_ _._ For the first time, Six thinks that the fight that Siete incites within him isn't a fight at all, even though it feels like one. His racing heart, the urge to meet Siete halfway, being frozen in place—all of it should be a fight, but it's something less aggressive but no less reactive, and something he doesn't know how to name.

Six can't leave him. That fate of his was decided from the moment Siete recruited him for the Eternals, too. He never lacked the opportunity to leave, and yet, something had him _stay._

Siete opens his mouth, and he says something that activates the urge in Six to snap back, but it's a _reaction_ that makes Six want to retaliate, despite common sense. "I trusted that you were an adult that knew how to make your own decisions, but maybe I trusted a little too much."

"Excuse me?" Given all outward appearances, their conversation sounds the same as they've always been, but they're on the cusp of breaking a barrier, and Six doesn't want to see what's on the other side. He needs to leave, _now_.

"My god, letting you turn yourself in?" Siete speaks before Six can turn around, and it arrests him. "What are we, idiots? You're one of our own, Six. You're an Eternal and a friend, and resigning's not an option, on order from me!"

"Aren't you too late to try and convince me?"

Siete's voice slingshots from _Leader of the Eternals_ to a voice that's much too tender. "Am I?"

Six grits his teeth under his mask. The instinctive _yes_ refuses to roll off his tongue, no matter how he wants to spit it out.

Siete's eyes fill with renewed determination. "As long as you're still in front of me and still alive, it's not too late, is it?" His tone is too soft to be a joke, too serious to be anything but the truth.

It _is_ too late. Six has already made up his mind to leave the Eternals behind and take responsibility for his past, no longer putting those he cared about in danger. This is the safest way to do it that would result in the least amount of casualties, should the powers that be take him by force from the Eternals.

But, just once—he wishes it wasn't too late.

His answer dies the longer he spends staring at Siete: jaw set, eyes bright, cheeks red from the cold. Six can't leave him, but Siete won't let him leave without a fight, either. Six is used to that fight, but he wants to _lose_ this one.

For the first time, someone has come back for him, a man that's spent all his life waiting for others. Siete's kindness was active and present, always too much for him to handle, one that now makes his skin crawl with something better than anxiety.

"Well, anyway." Siete must sense a lack of fight, because he continues, his voice resigned. "I ran all the way here to stop you, Six. I shouldn't've let it get to this point. Whoever comes after you is coming after all of us, and that's a promise."

Six has to be a fool to listen, but with the heartbeat in his ears, he can't hear common sense. He removes his mask to unclasp one half, giving it to Siete before wearing the other half. "I've decided on my course, Siete. This is mine alone."

"It doesn't have to be," Siete says, but he takes mask, holding it up to his own face and lowering his voice. "'Only I can do this', he says—"

With their masks half-fallen, Six tiptoes to press his lips against Siete's masked cheek. He had to be a fool to let this go on for as long as he had without giving it a name.

The feeling in his chest settles while the rest of his nerves burst out of his skin. With Siete distracted, he tears away and jumps onto the ship behind him.

He doesn't need the jacket anymore. He's too warm. Siete stares, still holding the mask to his face. "Thank you for coming for me," he says. His voice doesn't sound like his own. The ship creaks under his footsteps. Siete doesn't follow. "I will return for that half. Keep it safe."

He can't read Siete's lips before he runs away to the helm, hoisting the sails and disappearing into the night.


End file.
